Why Gary is a Sociopath
by iamtheletter13
Summary: Pre-game. Prequel to Stop Motion. A series of stories from Gary's childhood. Warnings for violence, harsh language, homophobia, and child abuse. GaryxPetey fluff. Please review.
1. Twelve

Twelve

The First Time Gary Self-Medicated

Gary's mother was lying limp on the bed. There were pill bottles on her bedside table, and his father was gone, so the boy was daring enough to creep into his parents' bedroom, staring at the yellow bottles, threatening, something that usually resulted in a beating if he even looked at them, but his father wasn't there, and his fingers were sticky. Before the brunette knew it, he had a full bottle of Valume and was curled up in the back of his sister's closet, breathing heavily and staring wide-eyed at his prize.  
He was on his own pills. His father forced them down his throat when he was bad, but these were different. These were the ones his mother took to pretend his screaming wasn't real, the ones that made her glassy-eyed and content through her bruises, the ones that resulted in a drowsy half-smile and a comatose state.  
He struggled with the child-lock on the bottle, hands shaking, just as the door downstairs slammed open. It was late at night, so his father must have been home from drinking, after work, staggering up the stairs. His sister was gone, though he was calling her name, the girl sent by a mother that still loved her to a far-away boarding school before the monster that called her daughter became bored with Gary, his chew toy.  
"Gary! You little shit! Get out here!" The man shouted, and before he could actually go searching for him, the twelve-year-old popped two pills into his mouth, hiding the bottle in one of his sister's shoes before shuffling into the hallway.  
His father was looming like a shadow, enraged expression turning to a chipper one when he spotted Gary, an alcohol-heavy hand on his shoulder.  
"There you are..." He said, in a silky voice that made Gary uncomfortable.  
"You have a good day at school?" It was Summer, and had been for a couple of weeks, but Gary nodded fervently regardless.  
"Good, good." The male was being led towards the stairs, and his feet were suddenly heavy, dragging, trying to keep from letting his father take him to the kitchen or the downstairs bathroom. The bedroom and living room were easier to deal with.  
"Why are you scared? I just wanna play catch." The man behind him said, Gary shaking all over, trying his best to break out from in front of his father, but the world was suddenly in the wrong direction, a heavy pressure on his back, stairs quickly approaching.  
There wasn't any pain. Just when Gary reached the bottom, the painkillers crashed through his system, numbed the gashes and bruises and what he was sure was a broken wrist. He was stiff still, so his father had the butler drive him to the hospital. This time, he had actually fallen down the stairs.

The Day Gary got His Scar

Gary was on the living room floor, a football game on the television. His father was in his usual chair, clad in his Sunday best because they had just gotten home from church. He had a beer in his hand, his fifth since getting home, and Gary knew that it was only a matter of time until the man noticed he existed.  
"Do you think that cheerleader is pretty?" Gary's father suddenly asked, and the boy looked up from his action figures with a confused expression. His eyes traveled to the screen, and he looked the scantily-clad female over, the little person on the box bouncing around merrily.  
"Not really." He answered honestly. There was no right answer.  
"Why not? You a fag?" The man asked in a bored tone, and Gary looked at him. He was high on his mother's Valume because it made the pain go away, had been almost constantly since the discovery of the bottle.  
"What's a fag?" Gary asked, and his father cracked into laughter.  
"Your friend. The skinny one... Petey, you call him. That's a fag. If you spend too much time with them, you become a fag, too." He explained, Gary's expression one of confusion.  
"When you like boys." He elaborated, and Gary pursed his lips.  
"Like? As friends?" Gary asked, sounding braver than he usually did, bandaged hand brought to his chest protectively.  
"No. You sucked his dick?" The man asked, and Gary looked disgusted.  
"You mean his-"  
"You have, haven't you? Little faggot." And his now-empty beer bottle was broken on the nearby table, the thing shattering, glistening. Gary fell onto his back and scampered away, away from his approaching father, the neck of the bottle with a sharp end, as far as he could until the wall refused his escape.  
"Say the cheerleader is pretty. You want to fuck her. Say it!" He roared, aggression incarnate, and Gary started to cry, hot tears streaming down his face and staining his nice church shirt.  
The bottle was hot when it slashed across Gary's face, just above his eye, the boy crying out even though the drugs numbed it considerably.  
The butler told the doctors that he had done it for attention, and they added a new pill to his already-long list of medications.

The Time Pete's Gameboy was Stolen

Pete's father had invited Gary to get ice cream with them. The taller male lit up at the suggestion, and though he didn't say anything, the man knew that he was thrilled by the prospect. It was a hot summer day, Pete spotting Gary at the beach, wearing nothing but his swim clothes and a bandage over his eye, telling his father about him, one of the other outcasts in his class. Gary never spoke, so he was labeled as a freak.

They had ice cream in the nearby parlor, Gary pointing at the mint chocolate chip and bouncing up and down a few times. They sat next to a window that looked over the water, Pete telling Gary about his new Gameboy while the darker-haired boy smiled over his frozen treat, just what he wanted on such a warm day.  
After a while of the one-sided conversation, Pete's father told them that he needed to go to work, and Pete suggested that they finish their ice cream cones out on the beach. Gary was more than happy to follow behind him, the boy's father leaving for his car as Pete dropped onto a bench, Gary sitting gingerly next to him. The shorter of the two grabbed his Gameboy and it burst to life, Gary still working on his ice cream.  
"It's really great! Like a videogame console that you can take with you! We went to my grandmother's a while back, and-" A boy passed them, and the game was torn from Pete's hands, both of their eyes traveling up to the offender.  
"Thanks, fag." The stranger said, burly and probably a few years older than the two. Gary's mouth fell open, and Pete looked close to tears as the stranger started walking away.  
Gary looked to Pete, fully expecting him to stand up and try to wrestle the toy out of the older boy's grasp, but nothing happened, Pete sitting on the bench with a hung head and hands folded in his lap.  
Gary stood suddenly, stomping towards the bigger child and forcing him to turn around before he swung, the impact of a fist on the stranger's jaw ringing out. The male fell backwards, and Gary carefully pried the toy from his grasp as his enemy cupped his face and started crying. In the mannerism of his father, Gary spat in his victim's face, and he scrambled away, probably back home. Gary returned the Gameboy to Pete, other hand in the pocket of his swim trunks.  
"Th-thanks!" Pete said brightly, taking his toy back and flicking it on again.  
"I like you." Gary said, his voice low and worn from disuse. Pete tensed and furrowed his eyebrows.  
"I'll destroy anything that tries to hurt you." And he was gone.

Gary's First Sleepover

Gary tapped on Pete's window, startling the jumpy boy awake. Pete glanced at his clock, groaning when he saw that it was two in the morning. He rolled over, thinking that it was just the overgrown hedge outside his room blown by the wind. There was another tap, though, so he rolled back over, eyes widening when he saw that it was Gary, not a hedge, that was asking for entrance, the dark-haired male shirtless and shaking.

Immediately, Pete was out of bed, prying the window open and ushering Gary inside. He didn't say anything, but he didn't really have to, bloody lash marks along his back, feet leaving red stains on the carpet. Pete wanted to cry for him, but he instead went for his bathroom, grabbing out the first aid kit he had there, just in case, and returning to find Gary sitting on his bed, obviously trying to stifle his tears.

"What happened?" Pete asked, getting nothing but a shaken head from the other brunette. He went to dressing Gary's wounds, and Gary sat there, stoic.

"Who did this to you? Was it Russell? He's mean." Pete tried, Gary's pained, torn expression melting into apathy.

"Was it Johnny? He likes to push people around, too." Pete applied ointment to one of the long, bleeding marks, none of his bands-aids big enough to cover it. He haphazardly taped gauze to Gary's back, not particularly skilled.

"I'm planning on taking the CPR course next year. That way I can actually fix you up." The smaller of the two chuckled out, patting Gary's shoulder to signal that he was done.

"Wouldn't that be fun? Playing doct- I-I mean… You know what I mean…" Pete looked away, clearly flushed, clearing his throat and going to his closet.

"Here." He handed Gary a baggy t-shirt that he used for pajamas, the other brunette pulling it over his head then starting for the floor, Pete furrowing his eyebrows at the action.

"Do you want to stay the night?" Gary nodded, curled up on his side, halfway tucked under the bed.

"I'll go get the blow-up mattress, hold on." Pete left, returning moments later with the bed and a pump. He took a while to set it up, Gary ushered out of the way so that Pete could unfold and plug the hand pump in, huffing as he tried to fill it up.

Gary shoved him out of the way, moving the handles much more quickly than Pete had, the mattress filling up within the span of about ten minutes. He flopped face-first onto it when he was done, Pete climbing back into bed.

"I'm only allowed to have sleepovers on break." Pete said with a yawn, tossing Gary a pillow and one of the extra blankets he had folded at the foot of the bed. There was no response.

"So… Don't come sneaking in here on a school night, okay? My mom will be mad." Gary's eyes widened at the words, giving a knowing smile. Pete grinned in response.

"Good night, Gary." Pete said a bit more faintly, and just like that, he fell right to sleep.

After the taller male was sure Pete had gone to sleep, he carefully left the bed he was in, climbing in next to Pete and crying until it hurt too much to stay awake.


	2. Thirteen

Thirteen

[A/N: I have to give credit to Reviews to Master and purrinpudding for helping me plot and sorta Beta'ing.]

Gary's First Kiss

"Bif is having a sleepover for his birthday. I-I was invited. Do you wanna come?" Pete knew he would find Gary at the beach, had two sandwiches in a paper bag in the basket of his bike, smiling down at the older boy, who was resting from a swim in the sand. Gary offered Pete a smile and nodded. It sounded fun. 

They ate their lunch in relative silence, Gary swallowing without chewing, like he hadn't eaten in days. He hadn't, but Pete wasn't to know. 

"You know Bif, right? He's actually pretty nice. He hangs out with that Derby kid, though, and does anything he tells him. I don't know... He's started boxing, and he's gotten bigger. Maybe I can get bigger, too, if I really try. Do you think so?" Pete was rambling, taking his time on his sandwich, and Gary was staring at the meal, only one bite mark on it. Pete got the hint and handed it to Gary, receiving a thankful smile. 

"It'll be fun. The Taylors have a pool and a trampoline, and a huge TV. I just hope he didn't invite us to be mean, like Johnny did. He invited me to his birthday party, but he and his friends just made fun of me the whole time. Kids really can be mean." 

It was about six when they made it there, Pete carrying a backpack filled with his things, along with a change of his father's pajamas because Gary looked frightened when he suggested they stop by his house to get him a change of clothes. 

They were invited inside by a butler, the large house already crawling with children, most of them from their age group, a few older kids. Gary went right for the table set with food, taking an entire bag of chips then returning to Pete's side, too anxious away from his friend to do much more than sheepishly follow him around, much like Bif was following Derby; two clueless children, insecure and protective of their links to the outside world. 

There was swimming on Gary's part, the dark-haired boy staying in the pool for a rather long while, until it became too cold to swim and the rest of the children went inside. Pete stayed, though, his pant legs rolled up to his knees and his feet dipped into the cool water, watching Gary's expert back-stoke with muted wonder. 

"We should go inside. I think a bunch of the kids went home." He glanced at the house, what he could see through the sliding glass doors lethargic and still. 

"We don't want to be locked out. Come on, I brought you some pajamas." Gary sighed and made his way to the stairs, climbing out of the pool, shivering with the trees surrounding them as a breeze went past. He held out his hand expectantly, watching as Pete struggled the backpack from his back and rushed to hand Gary his clothes. The taller teen quickly and shamelessly changed, ignoring the bright red flush on Pete's face as they walked inside. 

The kitchen was vacant, as was the living room, Gary confused. He heard sounds coming from a door down a hallway, led into a basement; surprised to spot the back of what he was sure was a girl's head at the bottom of the staircase. Gary motioned towards an equally baffled and slightly flustered Pete, the two of them scaling the stairs. 

"-or dare?" Gary recognized the voice as Derby's, shuffling into the rather large circle of teens. 

"Dare." A girl with blond pigtails that Gary knew to be Mandy said, Bif's eyes traveling to the newcomers. He whispered something to Derby, who was apparently running the game. 

"I dare you to suck on Russell's big toe for a minute." Derby looked proud of himself, eyes suddenly trained on Gary, then on Pete. He had a plan for them. 

"Ew! No!" The girl protested, and there was a chorus of chuckles. 

"You lose, then. My turn again..." Derby's eyes never left Pete, and he looked uncomfortable under the scrutiny. 

"Peter. Truth or dare?" There were plenty of eyes on him suddenly, though they seemed to look right through Gary. 

"U-um... d-dare." Pete answered shakily, and Both Derby and Bif smiled in unison. 

"I dare you to kiss Gary." 

Pete turned a brighter shade of scarlet than Gary thought was possible, though the taller teen looked unfazed, felt unfazed. There was a long silence, Gary turning towards Pete, Pete trying to curl into himself. 

"Well? Do you want to be cut out of the game, too?" Derby said silkily. 

Pete shakily turned towards Gary. Being cut out of the game meant being shunned, being humiliated, but so was kissing another boy. There was no way out of it, out of being victimized by Derby's clever trap. 

Slowly, oh-so-slowly, Pete leant forward, their lips touching for no more than a split second, but Gary's woes were suddenly gone and his life felt real, and the world felt right. Gary knew there was nothing to it; just a little bit of awkward contact, but it was a second of pure heaven for Gary. Pure bliss.

"You're both fags." Derby chuckled, and Gary gave a lewd grin, suddenly dripping with power, the crowd forgetting Pete. He licked his lips, lowered his chin, and looked at Derby with a sultry glare that made the blond have to hold back a gasp. 

"Oh, you have no idea..."

Gary's First Detention

It was the first day of school, Gary and Pete walking to class together, Pete droning on about the short, week-long trip he had taken just a few days before. Gary knew someone was going to be waiting for them with malicious stares and spiteful words, but he was completely prepared. It didn't really bother him that the other students teased him; he put up with worse on a rather regular basis at home. It was the torture Pete had to endure that really got to him.

Pete was small in stature, always had been, as long as Gary knew him, ever since the fourth grade, when he and his family moved to Bullworth. Pete explained to him once that he technically belonged a grade behind the others, but just barely met the mark, so it made sense. The person waiting for them was Derby, Bif standing beside him, looking even bulkier than he had a month before, at his birthday party, arms folded over his chest.

"You two make such a cute couple." Derby cooed with a cruel grin, Pete averting his gaze.

"Shut up, Derby." Peter complained weakly, trying to get past the other two, only to have the blond block their way.

"Did you have a nice date? I hear he spends the night at your house all the time." Gary rolled his eyes. Derby was usually more creative.

"S-seriously, let us pass-"

"'Us'? You really are together, huh? That's sweet. Careful, wouldn't want you getting pregnant." Derby shoved Pete's shoulder, and like a flash, Gary had dropped his books, fist curled up into Derby's sweater vest, making the shorter male stand on his tip-toes, a tangible look of terror painted on his features.

"Smith! Harrington! No fighting! That's detention for both of you!" A prefect shouted, Gary dropping the blond, Bif dropping his guard,

Detention was led by Mr. Hattrick. By lunch time, he was usually boozed enough to have a drooping head and little concentration. Gary was sat at the back of the room, reading a book that Pete said was fantastic, sucked into the pages. His face was hot and his place was lost when Johnny threw a balled-up copy of his homework at him, but Gary wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of his attention, so he kept reading. Derby was the next to throw something at him. It was his pencil, managing to drag Gary's gaze up to them.

"You and Pete actually an item?" Johnny asked in a whisper, Gary slowly shaking his head and turning back towards his book. There was an eraser thrown at him that time.

"Why not? He's obviously got the hots for you, and you follow him around anyway. Why not get some tail while you're at it?" Derby chuckled aloud at Johnny's words.

"Like you would know anything about getting tail." He taunted the poorer boy, who shot him a sharp glare.

"I do too." He defended with childish anger, Gary ignoring them again.

"Anyway, there's nothing wrong with liking guys. I have a friend who's, y'know, that way, and he's great to hang out with." Johnny continued.

"There is too! Daddy says anybody who likes the same gender is a deviant." Derby responded, jarring Johnny from his task of glaring holes into Gary's forehead.

"I bet you and Bif kiss all the time! Bif and Derby sittin' in a tree, f-u-c-"

"Ugh! Gross! Never!" Derby cut Johnny off, the teacher snorting, apparently having momentarily been awakened by the almost-shout. The blond turned red and slumped back in his chair.

"You seem a little defensive." Gary spoke, and both of them glanced at the brunette in surprise. Johnny had never heard him talk; Derby had only heard him speak once before.

"Wha- no! I mean… I'm not defensive. I just don't want this trash smearing my name." He drawled with forced nonchalance in his faked accent, and Johnny snickered.

"And don't act like you didn't have your first kiss with Peanut." Gary turned towards the greaser, Johnny flushing bright red at the declaration. Apparently, Gary had gotten it right.

The rest of detention was spent in silence, the other two not throwing a single thing at Gary, the brunette given the opportunity to finish his book.


	3. Fourteen

Fourteen

[OOC: I really can't decide what's more tragic, Gary's life or Petey's. I'm so mean to characters in my fics… There's a blatant reference to sexual abuse in this, but it's not vulgar or nuthin'. I think this is probably the last chapter, unless someone likes it enough for me to continue and reignites my muse.]

Gary's First Real Fight

"Eat me." The bully taunted. Gary vaguely recognized him as Trent. He didn't associate with the bullies very often; their lack of eloquence and inability to evolve above the mediocrity of blunt force was nauseating.

Peter and Gary were just trying to walk to their next class, but Trent had stopped them just outside of the main building, Pete barely down the steps when his blond tormentor approached, glaring daggers down at him. Gary was ignored because he was pegged as more of a ticking time bomb than a useless weakling.

"Leave me alone, Trent…" Pete tried again, holding his books tighter to his chest. He had given up on backpacks when his last one had been burned, contents included, by one of the greasers.

"What're you gonna do about it? Huh, faggot?" The taller male asked, shoving Pete by his shoulder, making him stumble backwards. He looked to the ground.

"I-I never did anything to you…" Was Peter's weak protest, staring at anything but his tormentor.

"You existed. That's what you did to me." Trent growled.

"Why do you care?" Gary chimed in, all three of the bullies looking at him as though he had appeared out of thin air. Trent's confused expression faded into a crooked smile.

"You here to defend your boyfriend?" Trent asked, grabbing onto Pete's upper arm and wrenching him out of his spot.

Pete, surprised by the sudden action, stumbled, arms caught with the weight of the books. He landed face-first on the stained concrete below them, hitting it with a loud, terrifying crack. Instead of bleeding out like Gary was afraid he would, his lithe friend sat up shakily and cupped his nose, crying loudly. Trent looked proud of himself.

In a sudden flurry, the blond was on his back, Gary having climbed onto him and taken him down with nothing but his body weight. There was another crack, this one of skin-against-skin when the brunette's fist hit Trent's face. Then another. Then another. The crack turned to a sickening squelch, and the dumbfounded bullies suddenly realized exactly what Gary was doing, that the glint in his eyes was pure murder, nothing less. They had his arms, but Davis simply stumbled forward, and Gary's arm was wrenched out of Ethan's grasp, Gary grabbing onto Trent's throat with both of his now-bloody hands while the other boy thrashed and reached out.

Pete watched from as far as his blurred vision and spinning head could get him, as Gary tried to choke his attacker to death, as a group of Prefects yanked him up, only resulting in the scarred teen kicking blindly at Trent's now-unconscious form. It was halfway between touching and nauseating.

Gary's First Trip to the Hospital

Gary was breathing heavily through his teeth, eyes still wide and wild, when Crabblesnitch stepped into his office. The teen was flanked by two bulky prefects, both of them looking rather concerned. All that glistened in Gary's eyes was hate and just enough fear to humanize him.

"Do you… understand that Trent will have to be hospitalized?" The headmaster asked tentatively. Gary was much scarier looking than many of his students, with his scar and the animal-like quality of his mannerism.

"Good." The teen spat bitterly.

"This… this is very serious, Smith. I want you to know that… You might go to a juvenile detention center because of this. One of the officers is calling it attempted murder." Crabblesnitch added. Gary sat forward in his seat suddenly, and the man flinched despite himself.

"Fine." He said, calming some.

"It's… your grandfather told me that you're quite the… troubled boy. I believe that instead of punishment, we should offer you… psychological treatment." He offered, but Gary seemed completely unfazed by either proposition.

"Your mother is here to drive you to the hospital. She told me that she didn't want bad press because of you." He stood straight, with his hands behind his back, clearing his throat, and Gary slowly dragged himself to his feet, head hung.

It was a tense drive. His mother was sitting across from him, pupils dilated from whatever new prescription she was on, staring down at him with disappointment and inappropriate wonderment. He didn't want to look at her. She was like a walking corpse, and it was always unnerving to see her features, so similar to his sister's, only stone-sharp and too-skinny. She pursed her thin lips and hummed in the back of her throat, an attempt at his attention, and Gary slowly looked up, despite the sinking feeling in his gut at the sight of her.

"Are you proud of yourself?" She asked.

"Yes." Gary answered honestly, amused by the flash of surprise, then spite on her face.

"You are a disgrace to the Smith name."

"You mean more than my pedophile of a father?" Gary responded, receiving a deep frown from the woman across from him.

"Your father isn't a-"

"He hasn't fucked you lately, has he?" The teen said with so much venom in his voice it shocked his mother silent, the woman subtly flinching.

"Stop telling that lie. My husband has never touched you, and you know it." The rest of the trip was made in silence.

Gary's shoelaces were taken out. He stood and watched, wearing the hospital garb he had been given, as the techs picked apart his clothing; checking pockets, pulling out drawstrings, and yanking laces out of the holes lined with cheap metal. He was almost sad to see them go – they were, after all, his only escape from the smell of nontoxic cleaner and an underlying filth, probably from the people who hovered about, not caring enough to clean themselves properly.

The doctor asked him to disrobe, and he did without a word. He only liked to speak when it was important, and he so seldom had something to say that wouldn't have gotten him a good thrashing at home, so he didn't say anything most of the time. The man had a chart with a figurine of a cartoon boy on it, smiling even though there wasn't any reason for him to. He was jotting down the positions of all of Gary's scars: the one over the eye, the scattered scratch marks on his back, the bite scars on his shoulders, the burns along his arms and hands. By the end of it, the boy on the paper didn't look half as happy.

Dinner was served with the pills he had been prescribed by the family psychiatrist, who was nothing more than a dummy for the courts. He took them simply because it was easier than having sedatives injected into his hind end and getting stuffed into a room with soft walls for the night. He ate his ham sandwich like he was afraid it would run away from him if he waited. The boy across from him, a few years older than him, was tapping on the table and humming and looking to and fro like he was expecting a surprise party.

"What do you have?" Gary asked out of pure curiosity. The people that surrounded him might not have been proper company, but at least they could offer him puzzles enough for entertainment.

"ADD." The stranger answered with a wide grin.

"How are the pills?" The brunette asked under his breath because there was probably a tech watching.

"Heaven."

So Gary decided he wanted to have ADD, too. He started saying everything that was on his mind, which was usually hurtful because he was good at seeing right into peoples' insecure minds, stopped sitting still, tending to roam around or pace while the other people his age were at play. They adjusted his medications, giving him sedatives that just made him drowsy and lethargic, so he stopped taking them in as sly a way as he could.

They moved him to some wonderful drugs that made the world extra-clear, even somewhat more tolerable, and he took them happily, stopped his over exaggerated disobedience, and they let him out of the hospital two weeks later, deeming him 'cured'.

The First Time Gary Made Fun of Pete

Pete was so happy to see Gary back, the brunette thought he would burst when he first saw him. Gary had been dropped off by his mother's driver, glad that the woman wasn't there to tell him how much of a failure he was. He had the laces back in his shoes and crisp, well-fitting clothing again. The sky was bluer, the air was fresher, and the company was more than he could ask for.

But he called him a dork anyway. It had slipped, Gary hadn't really meant it, and the laugh that escaped his lips was almost foreign. The look of absolute betrayal that washed over the lithe male's features was sweeter than honey, and Gary didn't understand it at all. He didn't understand the wrenching feeling in his stomach when Pete's eyes filled with moisture, the way his head felt lighter when the other boy hung his shoulders and silently accepted the insult, the laughter. He liked it, and he wanted to see Peter in worse condition, wanted to make him actually cry and beg for forgiveness of something he hadn't even done.

So he did. His foot hit Pete's stomach when he was on the ground, though Gary had no idea how he had gotten there, just that it was fire on his nerves, electricity pounding through his body, and the faint gasp-yelp that Pete let out was more than music – it was nectar. He was hurting, and Gary understood the joy his father always felt when he was taking a good beating, understood suddenly what made him keep going.

Peter was crying when Gary finally stopped kicking him. He actually hadn't hurt him that badly. It was just a scratch, just some bruising, so the taller male called him a fag and walked away, proud of himself for his achievement. There was nobody left to pick Peter out of the dirt.


End file.
